Neo Chapter Revolution
by Neckee777
Summary: After a family crisis, Nick Harris is shipped to France to live with his estranged father and complete his higher education. A stranger in a strange land, Nick must navigate the social politics of a Parisian high school. But fate has a funny way of spinning things, and his destiny may be tied to those of the people he meets in a way no one would ever expect.
1. Chapter 1point1

**Chapter 1.1**

 _Tuesday, September 11th_

* * *

Nick couldn't help but feel a little dejected when his father didn't pick him up from the airport. It wasn't like it didn't expect it, quite the opposite, but a small part of him had hoped that Lionel would have taken time out of his day to collect his son.

He didn't hate his father. He didn't much think anything of his father, simply because he wasn't around. Not that Nick could remember anyway. His mum and dad were from different parts of the world, it made sense that neither of them wanted to leave their life behind. He just grew up in one of those parts. His mother's part. But then the situation back home started moving downhill, and it was decided that Nick would go and live with the man that he only ever remembered meeting once when he was ten years old.

So when he didn't see Lionel at the airport - just a soft, balding stranger that held a sign with the words _Noël Mercier_ scrawled on the front - he the smallest part of him felt like he'd been stung.

With a sigh he hoisted the backpack that contained everything he deemed necessary over his shoulder and trudged over to the man. As he approached, the man looked up and gave him a puzzled look, as if he had an idea of what Lionel's son looked like in his head and Nick didn't quite fit the description.

" _Monsieur Mercier?_ " He asked.

Nick nodded.

The man lowered the sign and gestured for the younger boy to follow on.

As he followed the man Nick caught the scent of a strong cologne failing to mask the pong of tobacco, and he noted curiously that, this close, the fluorescent lights of the airport bounced off of a thin sheen of moisture that the man seemed to be coated in.

He stifled a yawn. The flight had been long: about twenty-five hours between Sydney and Paris, not including the stopover at Singapore in the middle. He hadn't slept for most of it. He was tall, and the plane didn't seem to be built with the length of his body in mind. He'd spent most of his time feeling half-folded while watching mind-numbing Hollywood blockbusters. At least it was the afternoon. He only had to stay awake a few more hours before he could assume the horizontal position.

The balding man led Nick outside, where the frost in the air knocked the wind out of him. His breath came out in thick clouds in front of his face and he found himself making a concerted effort to have his teeth not chatter. He was led to a taxi, where the man gestured for him to climb in. He got into the drivers seat without waiting and started the engine.

Nick opened the backseat door and got inside, finding to his own discomfort that the car was just as cold and smelled just as poorly. The man started driving out before Nick had even put his seatbelt on.

They travelled in total silence. Nick stared out the window. The drive in felt bland. It was winter, so nothing was in bloom, so all he saw were the mottled greys and browns of the sky, the dirt, and the Parisian city streets. Despite the weather, the people were out, seeming to rush from one place to another, everyone walking with a mission or a deadline that needed to be met. Nick smiled lightly. _I guess cities are the same no matter where you go._

He was vaguely aware of the people drinking inside the cafes at the base of the lorises, and of the tourists who so obviously didn't belong in this part of the world.

"Eh..." The driver began to say, as if he was grasping for the right words. "Cigarette?" He asked eventually.

"Sure, go ahead," Nick waved it off.

Taking his apathy for consent, the driver withdrew a smoke from his pocket and jammed it between his lips. Nick opened the window a touch to let the smoke drift from the car.

His drowsiness began to take hold and he felt his eyes begin to close. As the car stopped with a jolt he awoke.

The driver no longer had a cigarette in his mouth and was staring right at him.

"You pay." He said in his broken english.

Nick's eyes widened. He hadn't been given any money for the trip over. He assumed that everything had been paid for by Lionel, at least until he got to where he'd be staying. He opened his mouth to try say something, but he figured nothing he said would make any sense.

"Uhhh..."

A knock on the window broke the tension. Outside, on the curb, a curly-haired blonde woman with comically large glasses was holding up a wad of euros. She spoke to the driver loud enough for him to hear through the glass, but Nick couldn't understand a lick of it. He just watched as the driver wound down his window and took the money.

" _Mercie,_ " the woman said, giving a light nod, before opening the door on Nick's side and gesturing for him to get out.

He gripped his backpack and climbed out of the taxi. As soon as he closed the door the driver revved the engine and took off up the narrow street.

"I was wondering when you would arrive," the woman said brightly. "You must be Noël."

Nick winced somewhat at the name, but dismissed it. "Yeah, that's me. I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"Anastasia," the woman said. She took his hand a shook it enthusiastically. "It's great meeting you. Lionel told me you'd be visiting." She looked at the backpack slung over his shoulder. "Is that all you've brought with you?" She shrugged it off before Nick could answer. "No mind. If you would follow me, please."

Bewildered, Nick allowed himself to be led into the building in front of him. The interior was noticeably warmer than the outside, in both decor and temperature. There was a small desk by the door, and the rest of the room was decorated with a coffee table and two wooden chairs. An orange rug sat on the timber floors, and a few framed photos of sandy beaches and the Eiffel Tower adorned the walls. Toward the back Nick saw a narrow flight of stairs, but no elevator.

Anastasia took her place at the desk and opened a laptop. "I'll just need to check you in before I show you to Lionel's apartment," she said. "Did you have your passport on you?"

Nick took the passport from his pocket and handed it to her. She opened it to the right page and began typing the information she needed.

"Nick Harris," she said, reading from the passport. "So you don't go by Noël back in Australia?"

"Um, no. I don't."

"Do you prefer Nick?"

"I do, yeah."

"Ok. I'll make an effort to remember that." She smiled and handed him back his passport.

He smiled too. "Thanks." It was easy to feel comfortable around Anastasia. She must know what it's like to be as lost as he was, or at least know someone who does.

"Your english is really good," he said.

"Thanks, I spent lots of my later schooling years in Ireland."

"Wow. That sounds... difficult."

"It was a bit," she said, giving him a knowing look. "But you get used to it pretty quickly. It helped that I knew some english before going over. Tell me, Nick, do you know any french?"

He shook his head sheepishly.

Anastasia smiled. "That's alright. I'm here Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays, so I'd be happy to teach you the basics if you're around."

"Thanks. I appreciate that."

"You're welcome. Come on," she stood and made her way to the stairs. "I'll show you to Lionel's apartment."

The building was structured so that there was an apartment on every second flight of stairs. Anastasia explained that the landlord rented out whole floors to tenants, because if they were split in half there wouldn't be enough room for people to live. Each apartment housed two people comfortably, but most of the tenants in this building lived on their own. Mostly because they were career-types.

"I think a lot of the other tenants will be surprised to see you here," she explained. "No one really knows that Lionel has a son."

His father's apartment was on the third floor. Anastasia handed the key to Nick so that he could unlock the door. She moved in passed him to turn some lights on before inviting him in.

"Welcome home," she said with a smile. "Lionel told me to tell you to make yourself at home. What's his is yours, just don't go into his room while he's away. He's away on business at the moment, he won't be back in Paris until next week sometime. Just a few things," she led Nick to the kitchen. "When you need hot water you'll need to wait for a minute or so for the water to actually heat up. Try not to play loud music, noise travels through the floors easier than you'd think. You do all of your washing of clothes and dishes yourself, there's a laundromat just down the street next to the general store. That's the housekeeping out of the way. Info dump, sorry."

Nick shook his head. "That's ok, I need to know it."

"Sorry, could you talk just a little bit slower?" Anastasia asked. "I know what you're saying but your accent makes it hard sometimes."

"Oh," Nick could feel himself going red in the face. "Sorry."

Anastasia laughed. "That's fine, it's my problem not yours. You can't help your accent. Oh!" She clicked her fingers. "Lionel told me that he left something in the drawer for me to give you."

Nick watched as she hurried over to a cabinet and rummaged around in one of the draws. A moment passed and she came back across the room with a package wrapped in brown paper.

"There are a few important things in here," she started. "Your school uniform, a metro map, and your metro pass."

When she noticed Nick blink a few times in confusion she spoke in more detail.

"Lionel bought you this uniform for you to attend the _Lycée Mondial Parisien._ It's an international school. You knew that, right?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah. What confuses me is the him buying the uniform part. I'm not really average size."

Anastasia looked him up and down. "You might need to buy some uniform for yourself." She said at last. "Anyway, the metro map is straightforward enough. Lionel said he wrote the directions for you to get to the school on it for you, and the pass will let you take the metro anywhere in Paris."

"Does it cost anything?"

"Yes, but it is connected to Lionel's bank account so you don't have to worry about it."

Nick took a heavy breath.

"Are you feeling ok?" Anastasia asked.

"I'm just tired," he said offhandedly. "And this is all... a lot to take in."

"I'm sure." She put a reassuring hand on his arm. "I'll give you my phone number just in case you need anything. You can get a prepaid SIM from the general store I told you about earlier." "And that is...?"

"Just that way, down the street," she pointed in the direction.

"Thank you, Anastasia," Nick said. "I really appreciate it."

"That's alright Nick. I'm happy to help."

Nick nodded and stifled another yawn. Anastasia cocked her head.

"If you fall asleep now you'll probably regret it."

"I know, I know. I'll see if I can find some money around here so I can go to that store. I could use something to eat."

"That is a good idea." Anastasia took a card from her jeans and put it on top of the cabinet she took the parcel from. "That card has my number on it. And before I forget, your school is expecting you to start on Thursday. So you really only have tomorrow off, and then the next day life begins."

Nick chuckled. "How exciting."

Anastasia chuckled too, and with a smile she left. Her footsteps grew fainter as she went back down to the lobby.

Nick figured he'd use tomorrow to get his bearings for the local area, that way he would at least know where he's staying. He took a cursory glance around his father's apartment, almost shocked that a space so small would comfortably fit two people.

 _Cultural differences I guess._

The kitchen was a tiny area off to the side, about as wide as a hallway. There was a small table with two chairs next to that, and following the L-shape came to a two-seater couch facing a wall-mounted television. The door was a step behind the couch, and to the left of it was the cabinet Anastasia had rummaged through. On either side of the television were two rooms. One of the doors was closed, the other open, and Nick could see a double bed, a single lamp and cupboard in that room. Since it was the open door, he assumed that that's where he would be sleeping.

He went to that room, tossing his bag onto the floor and collapsing onto the bed. It was surprisingly comfortable, but anything would be comfortable when you hadn't had a proper sleep in over a day. He felt something pressing into his stomach and rolled over, finding an envelope with the words _"enough to live until I get back."_ It felt like there was money inside. Nick tossed it onto his backpack, telling himself he'd check it tomorrow.

He checked his phone, which had already clocked over to the timezone. It was just passed 5 o'clock in the evening. He took a pair of earphones from his pocket and tried to untangle them. He plugged himself in and picked a song - _Miss Jackson_ by _Panic! at the Disco_ \- figuring he could kill some time by listening to music.

He was asleep before it had even ended.


	2. Chapter 1point2

**Chapter 1.2**

 _Wednesday, September 12th_

Nick's first full day in Paris went about as poorly as he'd thought it would. He woke up at four in the morning and couldn't get back to sleep, so spent some time flicking through the channels on the TV hoping to find something in english. Failing that, he raided the kitchen and spent longer then he frankly should've brewing a cup of coffee, before going to the envelope he'd found the night before and counting out the money Lionel had left for him.

In shock and surprise, he counted out two thousand euros. More money than he'd ever seen in his life.

 _Just how long is Lionel going to be gone?_

When the sun rose proper, he wrapped himself as tightly as he could in warm clothes and made his way down the narrow flight of stairs toward the exit. He ran into Anastasia, who gave him a key to get into the building.

"The doors aren't unlocked all the time," she explained. "Use this to come and go if you ever need to leave before seven in the morning or after nine at night."

"Thanks. Hey, Anastasia, where was that general store again?"

She pointed. "Down the street, about a hundred metres. You can't miss it."

Nick left the building, cursing under his breath at the chill in the air. He had not packed for this.

He found the general store eventually. Anastasia's directions weren't wrong, he just couldn't read french. He figured he passed it twice before he looked in the window and realised that's where he wanted to be. He bought a big bag of snacks and drinks to get him through the next few days, and a USB charger for his phone and a deck of playing cards. To cover all of his bases he bought some notebooks and pens for tomorrow, just in case none of that was prepared for him. He was sure not to show the clerk all of his money when he paid, and when he had everything together he hurried back to Lionel's apartment.

He didn't realise how hungry he really was until he wrapped his teeth around the first croissant he'd bought. He'd never been this excited by bread before. He wolfed it down with animalistic vigour and tore into the next one. In a minute he'd eaten three, without even stopping for a breath.

He stalked around the apartment, eventually finding a WiFi router and connecting his phone up. Almost immediately the device was alive with pops and dings as notifications flooded in from the last day or so. Emails, texts, YouTube subscriptions... The one that stood out were the IMs from his friend Caleb, back in Sydney.

 _[...]_ _ **Caleb**_

 _hey man how was the flight?_

 _i guess you don't have internet yet huh..._

 _we all went to the beach today man, wish you coulda been there_

 _message me soon bro_

 _[...]_ _ **Nick**_

 _Landed safe bro. Flight was pretty shit, but i got here. This place is freezing man. Would rather be back at home, perfect beach weather hey._

 _[...]_ _ **Message sent.**_

Nick plugged his phone into charge, figuring he wouldn't get a reply until later this evening. He sat on the couch, taking some time to breath and think. Now that there wasn't anything he needed to do he became aware of the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach, like the butterflies there had died. He realised how uncomfortable he felt in this place. It wasn't like this was a holiday; this was going to be his home. But it didn't feel like it. He didn't sink into the couch, the smell was foreign, he had to think about where everything was.

No... This wasn't home.

His thoughts tugged that thread and followed it backwards. To Australia. To Sydney. To his school. His friends. His weekends, spent at the beach or playing footy in summer or the arcade in winter. His homelife, before... Before his mum got sick. Before she forgot all about him, she forgot all about herself. Before the courts ruled she was unfit to care for him, and decided the best course of action was to send him here. To live in an apartment that was foreign to him, owned by a father he didn't know, in a city he didn't recognise, in a country where he couldn't even speak the language.

He became aware of the stray tear rolling slowly down his cheek. He sniffed hard, wiped it away with the back of his hand and got to his feet.

"C'mon Harris, get over yourself," he muttered. "Keep yourself busy. Make this work."

He went to get his school uniform and unfolded it. He didn't need to try it on to know that it was a few sizes too small. Of course he didn't expect Lionel to know what size clothes he wore, but at least the man had tried. He probably didn't even guess that the son he never saw was six-foot-six. He was somewhat thankful. The uniform itself wasn't the most attractive. It adhered to a colour scheme of light and dark blues with yellow trimming. The longer he could put off wearing it, the better it would be.

He decided he'd spend the rest of the day riding the metro in hopes of figuring out how he'd get to school tomorrow. He walked to the station and found what train he needed to catch. He was familiar with trains and rail maps, so it wasn't too hard navigating the underground. Once he was confident he could make this same trip again come tomorrow, he boarded the train home.

The trip back to Lionel's apartment felt fast. By the time he made it back to the building the sun was just starting to dip over the horizon, splashing the clouded sky with blood reds and mottled purples. Nick noticed for the first time the Eiffel Tower standing proudly over the lorises. It surprised him. He was in Paris, he knew that, but he'd never thought he'd ever get to leave the country, let alone see something so iconic. Yet here it was, right in front of his eyes.

He checked his phone.

 _[...]_ _ **Caleb**_

 _good to hear your safe man_

 _keep me posted on how it all is :)_

 _[...]_ _ **Message seen.**_

It was just before six o'clock.

Nick went to bed anyway.


	3. Chapter 1point3

**Chapter 1.3**

 _Thursday, September 13th_

It was his first day of school, and Nick reckoned it could not have started in a worse way. Firstly, he didn't even know when class was supposed to commence, so by the time he got there he was sure he was already late. Secondly, he wasn't actually wearing his uniform on account of it being too small.

He got to the right station without any troubles, and according to the rail map he'd been given the international school was only a few hundred metres away. Even if he didn't know where to go, the school itself was hard to miss. It stood at least two stories higher than the other lorises. Flags hung limply in the windless air from poles atop pointed tower roofs, and the opulent front gates were adorned with a large plaque that read "Parisian School for International Students" in english, with what Nick assumed was the same written in french above the english and japanese below. He stepped through the gates with hesitation, feeling uncomfortable at the lack of students bustling about. Looking up at the red brickwork of the school he could see the heads of students in windows, presumably in class. In front of him, an older man in tight jeans and a tight vest exited the front door. By the folders he carried, he was either a teacher or a clerk. The man caught sight of Nick and adjusted his glasses.

" _Puis-je vous aider?_ " The man spoke. " _Tu appartiens ici?"_

Nicks mouth hung open. He took a breath and pointed to himself helplessly.

"I'm looking for a front desk?" He asked slowly. "A reception? Or something?"

"Ah... English..." He heard the man mutter with slight annoyance. "You are looking for reception, you say?"

"Yes."

"And you are a student here?"

"Starting today."

"But you are not wearing any uniform."

"It's too small," Nick shrugged. "My father got me the wrong size."

"And you are late."

"I only arrived in Paris two days ago. I'm sorry."

The man arched an eyebrow in distrust.

"I promise I'm a student here."

" _Oui._ The reception office is in the first room on the left when you enter the school," the man said. "And I suggest you be quick. Class is already in session. _Imbécile,"_ he added as he hurried away to whatever his previous engagement was.

Nick let out a breath and rolled his eyes to he heavens.

He entered the building, noticing in passing the wooden walls and maroon carpet that gave the interior and antique vibe, and moved to the room on his left, which was obviously a reception office. A desk split the room right down the middle. Two middle-aged women were behind it, one tapping away at a keyboard, the other in conversation with a student. The student was a girl Nick estimated to be around his age. He couldn't see much but her long black hair hiding the majority of her navy jacket. She was a foot shorter than him, and when she turned around to leave he noticed that she seemed a lot like him. She was of an obviously asian heritage, but some of her facial features - namely, the blue of her eyes - told him that she was biracial. Or she was wearing colour contacts. It could've been either.

She looked at Nick, her eyes darting up and down as she gave him the once-over. She gave him a quizzical look briefly before she walked passed him and into the hallway.

" _Puis-je vous aider?_ "

The woman's voice cut into Nicks thoughts and brought him back to the present. She was looking at him expectantly, her eyebrows raised and wearing a polite smile.

"English?" Nick asked.

The woman - Nick read her name tag as Alix - laughed. "Of course. How can I help you?"

"Um," Nick tried to find the right words. "My name is Nick Harris. I'm a student that's supposed to be starting here today."

Alix pursed her lips. "That name isn't familiar. Excuse me one moment," she turned to her colleague. "Lucie? Is a Nick Harris meant to be starting today?"

The other woman, Lucie, looked up from her computer and shook her head.

"It's probably under a different name," Nick blurted out. "Noël Mercier?"

"Ah!" Alix clicked her fingers. "Now that is a name I recognise. You are Lionel's son?"

"I am, yeah."

She began typing on her computer. Nick bit his bottom lip as he waited for her to say something. Maybe he didn't have to go to school here. And if he didn't have to go to school here, maybe he'd get to go back to Australia.

"You prefer Nick, then?"

Nick deflated a little. "Please."

"Just changing that in our system." Alix explained. "You're enrolled under your fathers' surname, so we have you logged as Nick Mercier. Is that alright?"

"It will have to be."

"Wonderful." Alix pushed a key and a printer by the back wall came to life. She stood and walked over to it, collecting the sheet it spat out and bringing it back to the desk, where she laid it in front of Nick. "This is your timetable. It is separated into Week A and Week B. It is Week B at the moment, so these are the classes you'll be attending today. Lionel picked your subjects, with some input on what you were studying at your old school." She circled the day. "I don't know how it works in Australia, but please note that Wednesday is a half-day. So you'll get half the day off, which most students are excited about."

"That's great. I never got those back home."

"Well, you'll have something to be excited about too." She flipped the page over. "This is the school map," she continued, "there are two sets of classrooms, north and south, with the courtyard separating them in the middle. All of your classes are in the north set, so this side of the building, basically upstairs from us. All of the classrooms are numbered, so you won't get lost that easily." She took a deep breath. "Any questions, Noë – um, Nick?"

Nick blinked hard. He felt like he had when he first met Anastasia, and his brain had liquified. He opened and closed his mouth a few times.

"Is there a way I can get a uniform?" He managed.

"I was going to mention that," Alix smiled. "We can order a uniform for you, if the one you have doesn't fit. We will just charge Lionel for it."

"Awesome, thanks."

"What size would you be?"

"Um..."

"Well, you're quite tall but not really broad in the shoulders..." Alix cocked her head in thought. "You'll probably have to get whatever we order adjusted."

"That's fine."

"As you say. I'll make the order for you."

"Thanks Alix."

"In France we say _mercie."_

Nick chuckled. " _Mercie_ Alix."

"You are welcome Nick."

Nick left reception and checked his timetable. As it was, he had a modern history class in room 16.

"I don't know where that is..." He said to himself. _I'll just go up the stairs until I find the right floor._

The staircases here were a lot less narrow than the one in Lionel's apartment building. Probably for the better, considering the amount of kids that would be moving here.

He didn't find room 16 on the first floor, so he kept going.

As he started to climb the stairs to the second floor he heard a scuffle. It sounded like some people were on the stairwell. They were speaking too low for Nick to hear, but he knew a menacing tone when he heard it.

 _Just like any other school._

He climbed the stairs, passing by a group of three guys looming over a smaller kid at the bend. They all went quiet as he passed. Nick caught the smaller guys eyes for a moment. There was a fire burning fiercely in there, but he could tell the guy needed help.

As he started up the rest of the flight the taller guys went back to speaking in hushed tones to the smaller guy. He heard the sound of someone being slightly pushed, before the smaller guy spoke.

"Would you guys just piss off?!"

"You better keep it down." One of the bullies hissed.

Nick stopped on the stairs and took a breath. He mentally scolded himself for getting involved, but steeled himself and turned to the group.

"C'mon guys, leave him alone." He said, trying to sound as calm as he could.

The bully that Nick assumed was the leader turned slowly to face him. His jaw was square and curly hair rolled down to his shoulders.

"What did you say?" He spoke with an accent that Nick could've guessed was Italian.

"Leave the kid alone, man, it's not cool to be pushing people around." Nick walked back down to the landing as he spoke. "Just... let him do his thing, man. C'mon."

The Italian scoffed and looked at his two lackies, who each had a hand on the smaller guys shoulders.

Nick got a good look at him now. He had shortcut blond hair and stoney grey eyes that sparked with the look of someone who wanted to fight but knew better not to. The kid was stocky, more muscular than Nick ever would be, as if he chose to exchange whatever height he had left for muscle mass. He couldn't tell why these guys would pick on someone who looked like they had all the strength of a bulldog.

"Who does this guy think he his?" The Italian said, making a show for his grunts. "Telling me what to do." He looked Nick up and down. "Did you forget to shower this morning?"

"What?"

"Are you stupid? I asked if you forgot to shower this morning. You've got dirt all over your skin."

Nick's jaw clenched and the smaller kids eyes went wide.

The Italian turned at the crack and the other bullies laughed. When he turned to face Nick again, he was knocked to the floor by a punch aimed right at his cubic jaw.

Nick looked down on the Italian and shook his wrist out. The Italian looked up at Nick with malice in his eyes, but his face split into a cruel smile. He got himself to his feet and waved at his grunts to stand down.

"You've got some balls on you," the Italian said at length. "I respect that. What's your name?"

Nick said nothing for a long time, just eyeing the Italian coldly, but at last he spoke. "Nick."

"I am Benvolio," he replied. "I'll tell you what, Nick. Just this once, I'll stop pushing this kid around and we'll be on our way. But know this," his voice lowered to menacing whisper. "If you cross me again, I will beat the piss out of your black ass. Boys!" Benvolio gestured with a nod, and the three bullies went down the stairs at speed.

" _Malaka!"_ The stocky boy called after them. He turned to Nick and cleared his throat. "Hey, uh, thanks for stepping in. Nick, was it?"

Nick's ears perked up. "Yeah. You're Australian."

"Yeah man, Sydney born and bred."

"Me too."

"No way! I'm from Randwick."

"Penrith."

"Holy shit, man. Small world. I'm Riley, by the way."

The two shook hands.

"Man, you totally rocked Benvolio with that swing," Riley grinned. "Can't believe he played the race card. That's a low blow."

"Why does he pick on you?" Nick asked.

Riley shrugged. "Why does anyone pick on anyone?" He beat his chest. "We're different, that's why. He just handles it the wrong way. Have you got classes here?"

"Yeah man, I started just today." "No fuckin' way."

"Yeah. Not gonna lie man, I'm so jazzed to meet another Aussie."

"Why? When did you get to the country?"

"Tuesday."

Riley hissed. "That's rough, dude."

"You're telling me." The two of them laughed.

"What class have you got now?" Riley asked.

"I'm supposed to be in modern history."

Riley cursed. "Was hoping we'd be in the same class, but I guess not. Tell you what man, when the bell rings for break meet me back here and I'll show you around the place."

"I'd really appreciate that."

"Easy done, dude. Least I can do."

Nick grinned and checked his phone. His grin fell. "Shit, Riley, I need to –"

"Yeah, for sure dude, you get to class. Being late on your first day doesn't leave the best impression."

Nick nodded his thanks and took the stairs at a run. Room 16 was on the second floor. He peeked in and saw an elderly woman gesturing to a room of students he couldn't quite see. He caught his breath and knocked on the door.

He waited for a beat before it was opened by the teacher.

"Yes?"

It was hard to tell from one word, but she sounded british.

"Hi, sorry I'm late. My name is Nick, I'm supposed to be attending this class. You've probably heard of me as Noël," he added.

"Oh yes, we've all been expecting you. Come in, dear, come in." She led him into the classroom and presented him to the class. "Students, this is Nick. He's from Australia. He'll be joining us for the rest of the school year. Make sure you don't give him any grief, ok?"

Nick offered a weak smile to the class and waved. A handful of them smiled and waved back, but the others just stared at him like he was a show dog, and they were waiting to see his next trick.

The teacher turned back to Nick. "I am Mrs Carlisle. There is a desk right over there behind Aiko. If you could take your seat, we can continue on with the lesson."

Nick nodded and scanned the classroom for the empty desk. He spotted it right in the back corner, just behind the asian girl he'd ran into back in reception. As he went to take his seat she gave him that same quizzical look, but said nothing.

Nick sat, took a book and pen from his backpack and looked up to Mrs Carlisle. She cleared her throat, and launched into the rest of her lesson.

* * *

When break arrived, Nick went to the stairwell to see Riley already waiting for him.

"Let's go!" He declared, making off without even checking to see if Nick was following.

Much to Nick's surprise and disappointment, the international school was basically the same as any other. It had all the things that made a school just that: classrooms, a seating area, a cafeteria, a handful of arts facilities, so on and so forth. He mainly put the pieces together himself. Riley wasn't the best tour guide. He had a way of describing things in a vague and somewhat unhelpful manner, like "that classroom is where they teach english and shit, I dunno," and "the toilets are somewhere down that walkway." But he was trying, and Nick was thankful for that. He was bummed that the school didn't have a sports ground, but he figured that seeing a football pitch in the middle of metropolitan Paris would've been unusual.

"That's about it for the school," Riley wrapped up as the two of them took a seat in the seating area. It reminded Nick of a sort of open-air forum. "As for the area," Riley continued, "there's a few general stores and some pharmacies. And the Louvre is close by."

"The Louvre?"

"Yeah," Riley wiped his nose. "Y'know that glass pyramid you see in movies all the time?"

"I know the one."

"That's the Louvre. _Super_ famous museum. I went once when I first got here, but I dunno, guess it didn't impress me that much."

Nick nodded in understanding. "And how long have you been here, Riley?"

The other boy pursed his lips. "Just over a year," he said after some thought. "I'm here for an inter-school exchange program. Supposed to be finishing off my education here."

"So do you have family staying here?"

"Oh, no. My folks are all back home," Riley laughed. "I'm staying with a Greek family that live in the area. Friends of my mums from way back, apparently... What about you, man? What's your living situation?"

Nick hesitated. "I'm... staying with my dad."

"So your dad lives here but you've never been before? What's up with that." Riley cracked a grin.

"It's, uh... It's a long story."

"Oh," Riley's eyes widened in understanding. "Oh, geez man, I'm sorry."

Nick shrugged, looking out to the crowd of students he'd soon have to get used to seeing every day. "It is what it is," he said. He scanned the ocean of people. He'd never seen so much of the world together in one place before. His eyes fell on the asian girl from his class, Aiko, who met his gaze before returning to a book she had propped open with her knee.

"Hey dude," he nudged Riley and gestured. "What's up with her?"

"Hm? Oh, uh... Aiko Yamamoto. Dude, she is like, top of the class in every class. Crazy smart, you have no idea. Other than that she kinda flies under the radar. Why?"

"I'm not sure, she's just been," Nick fished around for the right words. "Looking at me funny, that's all."

"Hey, my man!" Riley laughed. "Not even a day in and you've got yourself an admirer. Thank God _,_ at least now we know _someone_ will fall for your lanky ass."

Nick shot Riley a sideways glance.

The other boys expression became sheepish. "No? We're not there yet? Ok."

Nick just chuckled and shook his head. The two hung around for just a bit longer than they should have when the bell to signal class was resuming rung. After lots of dawdling, they went their separate ways.

* * *

Nick was exhausted. He was still suffering from the jet lag. In his last class of the day it took every ounce of willpower in his body not to fall asleep. When school got out he felt like a zombie. He just flung his backpack over his shoulder and shambled out.

The violent jolt to his shoulder woke him up slightly. He turned his head and saw Benvolio walking passed him in the opposite direction. The Italian gave him the middle finger as he disappeared into the flood of students getting ready to go home.

As he walked from the front door and to the gate he caught sight of Aiko being talked down to by the tight-vested teacher/clerk that had kindly greeted him that morning. Nick's eyebrows furrowed. It looked as if she was in trouble. She was staring down at the guys shoes while he towered over her, and while he definitely wasn't shouting he seemed aggravated about something.

Nick looked away. _Kids get in trouble all the time._

The temperature dipped drastically by the time Nick made it back to Lionel's apartment. With chattering teeth he vowed to buy himself a good jacket soon.

"How was your first day, Nick? Anastasia asked when he entered the building.

Nick sighed in relief at how warm it was in here. "Good," he said dismissively. "Yeah, real good."

"That's good. I hope you continue to enjoy it."

Nick gave her a thumbs up and a polite smile, then turned and climbed the narrow staircase.

He ate the last of his snacks, showered, and then collapsed onto the couch, trying once again to find something he could understand on TV. As he flicked his phone pinged, alerting him that he'd received a message.

 _[...]_ _ **Riley**_

 _Hey dude, what're your plans for the weekend?_

 _[...]_ _ **Nick**_

 _Don't have any. What's up?_

 _[...]_ _ **Riley**_

 _We should kick it. We'll hang out in the city so you can get a grip on Paris._

 _[...]_ _ **Nick**_

 _Sounds good man. We can talk about it tomorrow._

 _[...]_ _ **Riley**_

 _Awesome! See you at school man._

 _[...]_ _ **Message seen.**_

According to Nick's phone it was closing in on seven o'clock.

He went to his room to plug his phone in.

The fact that he also fell asleep as well was a happy accident.


	4. Chapter 1point4

**Chapter 1.4**

 _Saturday, September 15th_

 _[...]_ _ **Caleb**_

 _hows Paris bro_

 _[...]_ _ **Nick**_

 _Cold dude_

 _Really cold_

 _The school is like any school in Sydney, just there's heaps more international students_

 _And everyone but me speaks more than one language_

 _[...]_ _ **Caleb**_

 _huh_

 _that sucks dude XD_

 _[...]_ _ **Nick**_

 _You're telling me_

 _How's home?_

 _[...]_ _ **Caleb**_

 _all of the usual man_

 _all of the usual_

 _[...]_ _ **Nick**_

 _Sweet_

 _Nice talking bro, I'll catch up with you later_

 _[...]_ _ **Caleb**_

 _yeah dude!_

 _[...]_ _ **Message seen.**_

* * *

To keep it simple, Riley and Nick agreed that the best place to meet up was at the school gates.

"I need to get some clothes," Nick said.

"Ok?"

Nick laughed. "It's just that I only came here with two pairs of clothes and, I don't know if you noticed," he wrinkled his nose, "but I'm kind of at the end of my rope with them."

Riley cracked a grin. "No worries dude. Tell you what, there's a shopping centre down the way. I'll show you around here, we'll go to that shopping centre, and then we'll go get a feed at the popup markets."

"It's, uh... It's Sunday, Riley."

"No no no," Riley waved a hand, "they're not like the markets back home, man. They popup the tents every Wednesday and Saturday. They cook the _best_ food. Getting hungry just thinking about it..."

Nick chuckled at the faraway look in Riley's eyes.

"Riley?" He prompted. "Dude?"

Whatever fantasy he was in, Riley snapped out of it. "Yeah, anyway, we should go."

* * *

Nick couldn't help but be impressed by Paris, even when he really didn't want to be. Yes, it was dreary, and yes, it was cold, but the other Australian made for good company, and he'd been around the area long enough to know what was interesting and what wasn't.

Nick wasn't one who ogled at architecture, but the interiors of some of the buildings were truly awesome. Majestic pillars, sparkling floors, mosaic roofs, stained-glassed windows - nothing like any building in Australia that wasn't a church. The fact he stood in some buildings that were older than the European occupation of his home blew him away, and Riley noticed.

"Pretty sweet, huh?"

"Dude, some of these buildings are _insane._ "

Riley shrugged. "You get used to it, but it's still pretty cool."

Riley had already shown Nick to some of the sights near the school (without even going near the Louvre). They'd ducked into open buildings to warm themselves every now and again before they'd set off toward the next point of interest. They'd operated like this for most of the morning, and Nick could tell without even checking his phone that it was coming up on lunch by how quickly Riley was walking. He moved briskly, but with the length of Nick's stride he never struggled to keep pace.

"What say we go to that shopping centre, you buy yourself some clothes, and then we go to the markets to get a feed?"

"Sounds good." Nick nodded.

Riley visibly brightened. "Great!" He once again took point and lead Nick in the right direction.

Unlike some of the buildings that the two had taken refuge in to warm up, the shopping centre that Riley took them to was very typical of the western world. It felt exactly like any Westfield Nick had gone to in Sydney, although everything was written in french.

Luckily for him, clothes are easy to spot.

It took him about half an hour to spend over four hundred euros. He bought himself a jacket he thought looked warm, a few pairs of shoes and a handful of new outfits. If he needed more clothes he could always come back, he knew, but he figured that this would get him through for now. That, and he really wasn't a fan of clothes shopping. Riley wasn't much help either. He'd often wear something he knew looked stupid just to get a laugh out of Nick. And to the boys credit, most of the time it worked. He also noticed how Riley wouldn't make eye contact with any of the shopkeepers.

"Do you speak any french, Riley?" Nick asked as they walked through the fluorescent hallways of the centre.

Riley considered the question, rocking his head to the side for a moment. "I can teach you how to call someone a fuckhead," he said at last. "But I'm not sure it translates that well."

"Right."

Nick stopped to put the bags he carried down for a moment of reprieve. He stretched his fingers. All of the straps were digging into his joints and causing him some discomfort.

"Hey man, could you look after my stuff while I find a bathroom?"

"No worries, dude," Riley said. "I'll wait right here."

"Thanks man."

Nick tried to retrace his steps for a few metres before he caught sight of the familiar stick figures that pointed people in the direction of the bathrooms. He thanked the universe for common signage and skirted around the corner, following the hallway some paces before it came to end, leading to a possible three rooms: men on the left, disabled up the centre, and women on the right.

He ducked to the left, entering a bathroom that probably looked cleaner than it was.

He did what he had to do, the relief and euphoria washing over him like a warm blanket. He cleaned his hands and shook them dry, stepping politely out of the way of a stranger coming in as he exited.

He was blindsided when a firm hand roughly gripped him by the collar of his shirt and shoved his face into the wall. The cold of it crawled under the skin of his cheek. He tried to struggle, but the attacker had his arm twisted in a way that made it feel as if any sudden movement would break something.

"What the fuck!?"

He could feel the warm breath of the attacker on his neck, but he couldn't see who it was.

"Are you the one who hit Giuseppe's boy?" The words were gruff and menacing.

"Who?" He couldn't think straight. His heart was like a sledgehammer battering the inside of his ribcage.

"You're a kid, so I'll let you off with a warning. But do it again, and there'll be trouble."

The grip on his arm loosened and he felt the presence leave. He waited, his face still against the wall, as he tried to pull himself together. A meek voice cut broke his concentration.

"Are you alright?"

Nick spun on his heel and saw Aiko looking up at him with a mixture of fear and concern. His felt his own fear give way to anger.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He demanded. "Have you been following me? Answer me, dammit!"

Aiko's eyes widened in shock. She straightened herself and dipped her torso into a slight bow. "N - No. I - I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." She trailed off.

Nick took a deep breath and looked down at the girl. Her fists were clenched so tight that her arms were shaking. She didn't look like she was coming up any time soon.

He scratched the back of his head, his guilt for his sudden outburst turning to a feeling of awkwardness. "I'm sorry I yelled." He said softly. "Please stop bowing for me, I don't know how I'm supposed to react to that."

She slowly straightened up, but still didn't look at him.

"Why are you here?" He asked again, a little friendlier this time.

"I'm here with my mother," Aiko said. "We come here every other Saturday. Today is an other Saturday. I should go." She bowed politely and turned to leave, walking quickly down the hall and back to the shopping centre proper.

"Hey Aiko!" Nick called after her. "I'll... see you at school, I guess."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Uh... _Hai_." She left.

Nick shook his head and waited for a while. Eventually he got his thoughts together and made his way back to Riley, who, as if on cue, yawned as soon as he saw Nick.

"Took your time, dude, hope it was worth it."

Nick chuckled for his friends benefit, but his heart wasn't in it.

"Your face is a little red dude, are you alright?"

"Yeah bro," Nick lied, looping his fingers through the straps of his bags and lifting them up. "Let's go get something to eat."

Whatever concern Riley had before evaporated. A boyish grin plastered itself onto his face. "Now you're speaking my language. Let's go!"

* * *

The markets were about a kilometres walk from the shopping centre, all the way on the other side of the district. They'd been setup between two blocks of lorises, a cobblestone path leading up a very slight incline to the end of the street where the buildings almost perfectly framed the Eiffel Tower. A row of shrubs and small trees grew in garden beds up the centre of the path, and the market stalls had been set up on each side, people generally choosing to walk up the right side and then loop around and come down the left.

"This is where the magic happens," Riley laughed. "C'mon, it's this way."

He charged into the crowd, not even giving Nick a chance to stop and look at the stalls around him. Nick was finding it hard to match Riley's optimism. The memory of being manhandled was still fresh in his mind, and the bags he carried were tearing into his joints. He knew tomorrow he'd wake up with fingers bent like claws.

He tried to follow Riley, but couldn't quite keep up with him, despite the obvious difference in their builds. He figured he'd run into the guy at some point, so he took his time and strolled up the street.

The market was comforting in kind of an understated way. Unlike other places he'd seen, here the merchants weren't trying to push their wares on people. For the most part they sat in chairs, tables of assorted exotic goods in front of them, reading their papers or talking idly with passers-by. And while it was all very pleasant, it was a sign in front of a purple tent in the style of a bigtop that caught his attention, for no other reason than it was in english.

 _Fortunes – Tarot Readings_

€ _5_

"Hello there."

Nick jumped at the voice. He looked up from the sign to see a small, blonde-haired girl with golden eyes looking up at him.

"Hi," he said politely.

"Would you care for a tarot reading?" The girl asked, gesturing toward the tent. She spoke with an unsettling evenness. Nothing in her voice betrayed any emotion whatsoever, and her english was perfect, although Nick couldn't pick any defining features of her accent.

"No, but thanks," he said at length. "I'm actually supposed to be finding my friend right now, so..."

"Are you sure?" The girl pressed. "For you, it's free."

"That's very kind, but I really need to be somewhere."

"If that's what you wish." The girl conceded. "Just know that when you change your mind, we'll be waiting right here for you Nick."

Nick's eyes narrowed and his heart picked up the pace. "How do you–?"

"Nick!" Riley grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around. "Hurry up dude, I'm _so_ hungry, and I can't wait for you to try this stuff."

"Yeah, sorry man, I was just... distracted by this stall here."

Riley looked over Nick's shoulder, some confusion creeping into his eyes. "Really? Old clocks?"

"What?" Nick turned back to the tent, or at least, where the tent had been. He felt the air leave his lungs. "But..."

Where once there had been a purple bigtop-style tent, there was now a fold out camp table with old and rather unimpressive clocks laid out neatly on its surface. The merchant - a thick man with a credible moustache and a cigarette dangling from his mouth - eyed the boys suspiciously before going back to his paper.

"Hey man, to each their own," Riley shrugged. "C'mon."

He grabbed Nick by the arm and dragged him a few metres up the path. He caught sight of smoke, could hear the hissing of cooking oil and could smell a delicious waft being carried on the wind. Despite himself, his mouth started watering.

"Look at this bro," Riley grinned, gesturing to the food stall in front of him. There were two men and a woman dressed in aprons behind the counter, dancing between each other as they put the meals they were cooking together. "Traditional Greek souvlaki. The best thing a person can eat on a cold french day, as long as that day is a Saturday or a Wednesday."

The cooks caught sight of Riley and all smiled warmly, obviously recognising him fondly.

"The normal order, by two!" The boy called, holding up two fingers.

Riley was given a thumbs up by the woman and the cooks got into gear, cooking and mixing and building for only but a minute before two hot, steaming souvlaki wraps were placed in front of the boys. Riley paid, thanked them, joked that he'd see them again in about five minutes, and then took Nick to a bench before he tore into his food.

Nick had to admit, the wrap was delicious. He probably would've thought more highly of it too, if his mind didn't keep wandering back to the purple tent that advertised tarot readings. Why was the sign in english? Why was his reading for free?

And how did that creepy girl know who he was?


End file.
